<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Déjà Vu by Schadenfreudah</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28912044">Déjà Vu</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schadenfreudah/pseuds/Schadenfreudah'>Schadenfreudah</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Doctor Who (2005)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Crossing Timelines, F/M, Friendship, Post-Episode: s03e09 Family of Blood</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 11:40:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,120</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28912044</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schadenfreudah/pseuds/Schadenfreudah</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>On her first trip back to London after months in 1913, Martha catches a glimpse of a different sort of past.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Implied Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler, Martha Jones &amp; Rose Tyler, Ninth Doctor/Rose Tyler</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>128</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Déjà Vu</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Martha made her way out from the alley where they’d landed and crossed the road, absorbing the deluge of familiar sights and smells that now surrounded her. Not recognising the area, she sat down at a bench near the alley’s mouth and allowed herself to bask in the familiarity of it for just a moment.</p><p>It was nothing special—<em>Earth, London, early 21<sup>st</sup> Century, </em>the Doctor had pronounced loudly, with a few performative strokes to the TARDIS’ console—but after months spent working as a maid in 1913, with few of the comforts she had known all her life aside from those the TARDIS had provided, Martha was thrilled to be home.</p><p>The Doctor hadn’t accompanied her on this errand. As they’d stepped outside the TARDIS, he’d rambled on a bit about needing parts and some sort of oil among a bevy of other unintelligible excuses. Martha hadn’t believed him for a second, but there had been a desperation about him that made her let him go without protest. And so off he had scurried, leaving both her and the blue police box behind at the end of a shabby alley.</p><p>It was fine. Really, it was. London was Martha’s home turf, not some alien planet where she’d be forced to rely on the Doctor, and being on her own posed no threat to her safety. But after so long operating without him, she had rather hoped that he would realise how desperately she needed his company.</p><p>But the Doctor was as unaware of her as always. He hadn’t even hesitated to drop her off by herself, sending her away with nothing but a cheerful wave. Before, he might have thrown in a "See you soon, off you go," to soften the blow, but the awkwardness between them that had just been beginning to dissipate was back in full force. Her parting words to John Smith still lingered in their shared space, with no signs of reciprocation on the Doctor’s end, not that she had expected any. Though Martha had attempted in vain after the fact to deny what she’d admitted to him, from the look on his face it was obvious he had believed her just about as much as she had believed herself. Which was to say, not at all.</p><p>Sighing, Martha scrubbed a hand over her face. Things in that respect had gone particularly poorly for Martha, adding another layer of embarrassment on top of all else that had been emotionally taxing about the experience. It was hard enough being a serving girl playing to the whims of professors, that had been rough-going, but being forced to watch the Doctor’s human shell fall in love with another woman and witnessing another mention of Rose in John Smith’s diary had been the cherry on top.</p><p>When they got back to the TARDIS, she hadn't dared ask him what that had been about. But she kept thinking about what John Smith had said—"She seems to disappear later on," casual as you'd like, perhaps a bit wistfully. What did that mean, disappear? If she was happy, and the Doctor had insisted she was happy, why would the word John Smith used be 'disappear?' Why not leave, or go off on holiday, or meet someone, or some other descriptor more suited for a friend's departure?</p><p>Martha had tried to enquire after Rose when she first began to travel full-time with the Doctor, and all he had done was clam up and disappear for a few hours afterward, leaving Martha wandering the vast ship with little clue as to where he was or why she couldn’t track him down. Only after doing the same loop thrice in a row had she realised that the TARDIS must have been concealing him. The thought that the Doctor found it necessary to have his ship hide him away instead of just telling her he didn’t want to talk about it had made her feel awful, not half guilty. After that, Martha had been diplomatic enough not to push him further on the issue. If he didn’t want to discuss it, then neither did she.</p><p>But Rose’s re-emergence as a drawing in John Smith’s Journal of Impossible Things had reinvigorated Martha’s curiosity about her. As the Doctor refused to forfeit any information about her, aside from the occasional comment about a place they had gone together or something Rose had said, she had been forced to draw her own conclusions about what happened, which she could hardly do with such little basis. All she knew for certain was that Rose had given up her life of being ‘together’ with him to go be happy with her family. No wonder the Doctor was so torn up about it if that were true: Rose haunted his every thought, and she had just swanned off. Mind, Martha had trouble <em>believing </em>that she was on some sort of family holiday, given the depth of the Doctor’s skittishness about the subject.</p><p>Snapping out of her thoughts, Martha rolled her eyes, annoyed with herself. Even when she wasn't with him, the Doctor took up way too much of her thoughts. What did it matter now what had happened between him and his ex, when she was sitting on a bench, far from the TARDIS and any of the people involved in her theorising? No—for once the day’s trip wasn’t about him, or the TARDIS, or saving the world from some alien threat. Today was about Martha Jones and her normal life in normal London, 2008. Today was about getting chips, and having a nice, long bath at home, with bubbles, and soap, and gel. God knew she had earned it.</p><p>With that thought in mind, she looked for the first time at the street signs that surrounded her, searching for some indication of where they’d ended up. It wasn’t her neighbourhood. She realised with an all too familiar pang of disappointment that the Doctor hadn’t been paying much attention to Martha's needs when he’d dropped her off, since she was sitting in front of a council estate she’d never been to before in South London, miles from her family’s place.</p><p>It was odd, that was the place the TARDIS had drawn them to. It didn’t seem like the sort of area in which the Doctor would find reason to spend much time. All that was in front of her was a few blocks of flats covered in graffiti and an empty playground a little further away. It looked completely ordinary, certainly not the base she would have imagined for an alien who saved the world on the regular. The more she looked around, the more she thought that it had probably just been an accident. The Doctor’s driving had always been a bit dodgy, but it usually drew them toward danger rather than residential areas, though knowing him, it was always possible that some alien invasion was being cooked up in one of these normal looking flats. Unlikely, but not out of the question.</p><p>Martha sighed and dug around in the pocket of her jeans, searching for her phone so she could try to situate herself in time as well as space. When it flickered to life, she peered down at the screen and sighed again, aggrieved. The date on the display told her that it was near the end of 2006, nearly two years prior to her present. It was just a little bit off, but far enough that she could hear the Doctor’s voice in her head chastising her about the serious damage she would cause were she to run into herself or anyone who knew her in the future.</p><p>There wasn’t much to be done about that aside from wait. It wasn’t as if she could just ask the Doctor to pop her into her proper time. He had told her to meet him beside the TARDIS three hours from the time he had dropped her off, and it had only been fifteen minutes thus far by her mobile’s estimate. Martha had learned early on that being given any unit of time from the Doctor was a roll of the dice. ‘Three hours’ for him could very well mean anywhere between thirty minutes and three days for her. A change of plan was in order, then. Whether she liked it or not, she wasn’t going to go home. Instead, she would have a trip on her own and rediscover <em>her </em>city, then get chips, and then finally she would take that bubble bath she’d been fantasising about. It would just have to be in the TARDIS rather than in her mum’s tub.</p><p>Resolute, Martha stuffed her mobile back into her pocket. She would not allow this to ruin her trip. Anywhere, even the not so far-off world of a council estate in 2006, would be better than the past few months of hell. She was about to start off toward the main road in search of someplace to eat when she heard raised voices engaged in what seemed to be an argument only a few metres away. Not wanting to be obvious about her intrusion, but nonetheless a little curious about what could be happening (especially in the place the TARDIS had chosen for them to land), she glanced in their direction.</p><p>A tall man in a leather jacket was striding in her direction, trailed by a blonde girl who looked about half his age, if not younger. They weren’t being that loud, but in the quiet of the courtyard, isolated from the normal London street noise, their voices were practically the only thing to be heard. Martha couldn’t grasp what they were talking about, only snatches of words that made no sense without context, but she could hear the man’s voice was thick with bitterness. The girl seemed at first to be conciliatory, but as they moved closer to Martha, her voice grew increasingly irate, anger gaining traction as the man’s steps grew longer and put more distance between them.</p><p>The man looked over to the girl and spat something at her, so low Martha couldn’t make out a word of it. But the blonde evidently had, because she stopped in her tracks, her face crumpling immediately. She stood there looking after him as he continued on, in her ratty grey hoodie and a pair of jeans, arms wound around her middle. Her companion evidently either had no qualms about this or just didn’t notice, because he strode out of the courtyard and toward the main road. He didn’t even pause to look at back at his companion. In another minute, he had disappeared around the corner and out onto the street, leaving the girl who had been following him alone.</p><p>The blonde continued to stand there, staring at the space he had just vacated. Her lower lip wobbled, and though it seemed as if she might be on the verge of crying, after a few seconds of steady breathing, nostrils flared, she didn't. Instead, she wiped at her nose with the sleeve of her hoodie and glanced around. She had obviously expected to find only the empty bench, so when she noticed Martha, who at this point really felt as if she had witnessed something she should not have, sitting at its edge, she stumbled back a bit, her black-rimmed eyes round with surprise.</p><p>They stared at each other down for a moment. Martha could think of nothing to say. She had no idea how to comfort this stranger, because the expression on her face one she was intimately familiar with—she had seen it in the mirror countless times over the past few months.</p><p>The blonde shifted on her feet, and said, “Did you hear all that?”</p><p>Martha shook her head. “Was just sitting here, really,” she said. “But I only got the tail end. Promise.”</p><p>"Well, that’s a relief,” the girl said. She mustered up a half-hearted smile, tucking a strand of hair that had fallen loose behind her ear. Martha smiled when she noticed that her nails were painted a hot pink, chipping a bit on some and faded completely on others. It wasn't a colour she would have chosen for herself, but it complemented the girl's features well. “It's a nice day for sitting out, should’ve known someone would be here. Sorry to have disturbed you.”</p><p>Though they were complete strangers to each other, she felt a sense of responsibility for the girl standing in front of her. She had to be a few years younger than Martha herself, even with her heavy makeup and dyed hair, which Martha suspected was by design to make her appear older. The thought of her sitting here on her own and just waiting for that man, who had just stormed off and left her here, made her insides revolt.</p><p>“Was meant to be home, actually. I’m coming back from some travelling, only here ‘cos my friend dropped me off in the wrong place,” said Martha, attempting to make conversation. “Trust me, the only thing you disturbed was me moping about.”</p><p>“Tell me about it,” the girl said with a snort. “I’ve one who does exactly the same! He’s forever mixing up roads, dropping me off too far. Half the time, I think he does it on purpose.” Her face fell as soon as the sentence ended, and Martha realised that she must have been talking about the man who had just left. “Well. ’m sure yours really was an accident.”</p><p>Martha pursed her lips, sympathetic. “Yeah,” she said. “Yours too, though. Really.”</p><p>The blonde shifted again, looking as if she were about to make an excuse to go, when Martha found herself saying, “If you want, you could tell me about it. Reckon I’ve got some relevant experience in that department, dealing with blokes like that.”</p><p>Hesitating, the girl glanced toward the nearest block of flats. “Don’t want to be a bother,” she said. “I’m sure you’ve got better things to do than listen to me.”</p><p>“I’ve got nowhere else to go,” Martha said wryly, scooting over a bit on the bench to make room. “Remember? Got dropped off in the wrong place.”</p><p>“Right,” the blonde said, and she sat down beside Martha, offering her a tentative smile. “Well, alright then, if you’re sure you really don’t mind. ‘S always nice to have company—it’s been ages since I’ve talked with someone like this.”</p><p>Martha winced. That, too, was an all too familiar thought. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d sat down for a coffee with one of the other women from her residency, or even with old friends from her form. Travelling with the Doctor tended to be isolating in that respect: he was the only constant variable throughout all the planets they explored. No hang-arounds. “Me too,” she said. “And misery loves company, right?”</p><p>“Yeah.” The blonde was lost in thought for a moment. “God, sorry. I don’t even know what to say.”</p><p>Silently, Martha waited for her to gather her bearings. Whenever she was upset, she preferred to take things at her own pace rather than be questioned til she was out of breath. If she was acting as this girl’s confidant, which apparently she had decided she would, then she would do the same for her.</p><p>The blonde sighed. “That’s my friend, that man you saw,” she admitted, tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ear. “We’ve…been travelling together, for a while now. Scared the pants off my mum at first, ‘cos I didn’t tell her I was leaving, and we were gone longer than expected. So I try to visit, but…”</p><p>Martha tamped down her surprise. Travelling, unplanned disappearances, bad estimations of time—if she hadn’t seen first-hand the man she was with, she might have thought that she was one of the Doctor’s former companions. “And what, he doesn’t like domestics?” she queried.</p><p>“Not at all.” The blonde shot her a rueful look. “Doesn’t help that my mum slapped him. And tried to shag him, actually. Not exactly a great start for a Sunday roast.”</p><p>Lips twitching into a smile, Martha said, “Sorry to ask, but in what order?”</p><p>The blonde laughed at that. Grinning back at her, pleased to have alleviated her poor mood if only temporarily, Martha thought that happiness suited her. She had been pretty before, in a youthful way—she looked straight out of sixth form—but smiling as she was, she was beautiful.</p><p>“Slapping more recently,” the blonde said. “Thank god—dunno what I would’ve done if she was still interested. I'd have to fight her off with a stick, knowing my mum.”</p><p>Martha’s brows raised. “Thank god?” she repeated, teasing. “So he <em>is </em>your fella.”</p><p>Lapsing back into sullenness, the girl gave a halfhearted shrug. “Maybe, I dunno. He’s not really…like that.” Lips pursed, she shook her head, and said softly, almost to herself, “Or maybe he is, and it’s just me that’s the problem.”</p><p>“Sounds just like my friend,” Martha commiserated. The description fit the Doctor exactly—half the time she was convinced he simply didn’t have relationships like that, and then Rose would come up and he’d be transported to another planet, one that she thought could only be a product of lost love. "But you're lovely. If it's you, then he's an idiot."</p><p>The blonde mirrored her eyebrow raise. “Your friend, he's one who brought you to the wrong place, yeah? And you’re sure he’s not your bloke? Seems rather nice of him to take you back if he’s not." She scrunched up her nose, and mused, "Maybe he just got the address wrong…happens to me all the time.”</p><p>Martha gave her a tight nod. “I’m sure he's not,” she said. “And with him, I know I’m the problem. ‘Cos he<em> is </em>like that, it’s just…he has his ex.” She paused, and then let out a chuckle, infused with as much false cheer as she could muster. “Hold on a minute, we’re supposed to be talking about you!”</p><p>Sheepishly, the blonde threw her hands up. “Never said I wouldn’t pry! I’m curious, me, and you’ve got me invested now. An ex?”</p><p>“He’s proper in love with her, yeah.” Martha smiled down at her hands, tightly entwined in her lap. It was a humourless gesture, but she had long ago realised that at least pretending as if she was ok with it was better than allowing the situation make her miserable all the time. “Nothing I can do about that. No point in pushing it, ‘cos I’m lucky just to be with him. If I try anything…well, he’ll chuck me. He's already threatened to a few times.”</p><p>“Well then he’s an idiot, just like mine,” the blonde said firmly, setting a reassuring hand on her knee. “’Cos I’ve known you for all of ten minutes and I can already see that you’re brilliant.”</p><p>Martha raised her head, a little shy at the praise. “You think?”</p><p>“I know,” the blonde said, with finality, and smiled.</p><p>A comfortable silence fell between them. Martha hadn’t had the time to realise how much she had missed having human, female friends around her age—friends who, unlike Jenny, could understand modern struggles—but something as simple as a conversation on a park bench had filled a void she hadn’t even noticed needed filling. The Doctor was wonderful—amazing, a genius on a bad day, who could take her anywhere she wanted and have her back in time for breakfast at six—but he wasn’t a friend she could sit down and have a drink with, not like this girl was.</p><p>“So your boyfriend who isn’t your boyfriend,” she began, eager to shift the subject back to her new friend and indulge in a little gossip. “How old is he, exactly? ‘Cos I'm guessing you didn't meet at school.”</p><p>The blonde choked on nothing, flustering under Martha’s sly gaze. “Er,” she said, “I’m gonna go with probably older than you’d think.”</p><p>“And you’re, what,” Martha eyed the dark roots peeking through her dye and the thick mascara coating her lashes, “twenty?”</p><p>“Nineteen, but close enough,” the blonde corrected. "Almost twenty, now. Don’t even know how long it is til my birthday.”</p><p>Martha grinned. She knew that feeling—time on the TARDIS was so strange, she didn’t know whether she was still twenty-three or whether she’d technically been alive long enough to call herself twenty-four given the two months she'd spent in the past.</p><p>“Well then he’s cradle robbing, he is,” she teased. “I understand why your mum slapped him. When he comes back, I might have to have a go at him myself.”</p><p>“Shut up,” the girl said, but she was laughing again, good humour restored. “You should meet my mate Shareen—she was always nagging me about older men before I left school, trying to sign me up for double dates and things. Still reckon she’s got some kind of a fetish for it.”</p><p>At that, Martha blinked. “You know,” she said, slowly, “I sat here to give you advice, and I haven’t even asked your name. And we’ve been sitting here for what, ten minutes?"</p><p>The blonde smiled at that, tongue caught between her teeth. "You distracted me too much, didn't even get a chance! Well, enough of that,” she said, and stuck out a hand. “I’m Rose.”</p><p>Her words hung in the air, momentarily knocking the wind out of Martha. <em>Rose</em>. Of course even her day off would be haunted by the name that had been chasing her for the past few months, the very one had been the source of much of her inner turmoil and agony since she had met the Doctor. She peered at the girl in front of her, seeing her in a new light—as the wheels turned in her head, she couldn't help but ask herself whether this girl could be the Doctor’s Rose. It would at least explain why the TARDIS had brought them there: his thoughtless navigation could easily have taken him where she was most likely be on accident.</p><p>But it was impossible. This Rose wasn’t travelling with the Doctor—her companion had been that man she’d been with, that leather jacket wearing, blue-eyed man, who looked nothing like the Doctor Martha knew. </p><p>“Blimey, you’re gonna give a girl a complex,” said Rose, when Martha continued to stare at the proffered hand, completely still. </p><p>“Er, sorry,” Martha managed, pulling herself together enough to take the other woman's hand in hers. “Dunno what came over me. I’m Martha, Martha Jones. Soon to be Doctor Jones, hopefully, if I pass my exams.”</p><p>“Doctor?” Rose laughed, as if she were enjoying an inside joke Martha wasn't privy to. “I’ve a friend who’s a doctor of sorts, though I don’t think he has a medical license. But look at you! That’s amazing—I didn’t even get my A levels, I could never do med school.”</p><p>Martha winced. The coincidences were getting to be a bit too much—a doctor 'of sorts'? That sounded exactly like the sort of thing the Doctor (with a capital D) might say. She scrutinised Rose for another moment, discerning gaze sweeping over her form. If she really was the Rose from the Doctor's stories, then had he carted around her older boyfriend as well? Knowing him, that didn't seem likely, and he <em>had</em> said they were together. Surely that would mean she hadn’t been going out with someone else at the time. And why would he be so forlorn if she was available right here, only metres away from where he could park the TARDIS?</p><p>Martha settled on a smile. “Bet you could, 'cos you’re clever,” she said. “You could always could go back and do them now, if you wanted, but I reckon you don't need it. It’s not for everyone, school—travelling, that gives you a whole new perspective. If I had done that first, I dunno whether I would've ever signed up for so many more years of school.” To test the waters, she added lightly, “And that’s strange, ‘cos I’ve got a friend who does the same thing. Sure we’ve not got one in common?”</p><p>“Fairly sure, since I don’t think you recognised him earlier,” said Rose, leaning forward on her elbows. “Tell you what, though. Let’s do a swap—I can tell your doctor where to shove his ex, and you can knock some sense into mine.”</p><p>“What’s this about knocking sense into me?”</p><p>Surprised, Martha turned toward the source of the interruption. The man in leather—who she recognised from his inquisitive voice was apparently Northern—stood in front of the bench, arms crossed over his broad chest. His mouth was caught in a scowl that seemed as if it might be a permanent resident on his face, but there was something contrite about the slope of his shoulders and his eyes, soft as they took in Rose's disheveled state. Martha realised just from looking at him that he had probably returned to apologise.</p><p>“Nothing,” Rose said, eyes narrowing at him. “Was just talking to my new friend Martha, that’s all.”</p><p>“No need to hurry on my account,” the man said. From his pocket (and Martha had <em>no </em>idea how it fit) he withdrew a slightly soggy looking bag. “Though I did get chips. Oh well, no skin off my back if you’re not interested, I’m sure I could find something to do with them—might even keep me occupied while you're Jackie's.”</p><p>Rose’s face lit up. Her delight was plainly obvious even as she tried to hide it with an ineffectual cough, so clear that even the tense man's scowl lessened a bit, on the verge of twisting into a smile. “You came back for me, and you'll stay here,” she said tentatively, as if waiting for him to contradict her. When he didn't, she repeated, astounded, “You came back with <em>chips</em>.”</p><p>The man shrugged, so casually Martha knew instantly it wasn’t casual at all. “If you’ll have them.”</p><p>Awaiting the next step, she looked between them with anticipation, feeling as if she didn’t exist. Was this what it was like all the time, between Rose and her boyfriend? She might as well be a turnip on the road! They didn’t have as much in common as she had thought, then, because the Doctor had never looked at her like that, as if she were the centre of his universe. In another second she reckoned they’d be having a snog right in front of her.</p><p>But contrary to her expectation, that moment never came. Instead, Rose only got to her feet, convinced by whatever she’d found in the man's eyes.</p><p>“Thanks for keeping me company,” she said to Martha. “I’m afraid himself’s gonna cart me off if I try to stay here any longer. But I'll see you 'round, yeah? You've gotta tell me about your doctor.”</p><p>“Cheers,” Martha said, bemused. “I won’t keep you. Go on then.”</p><p>The pair of them turned to go, Rose’s hand slotting automatically in her companion’s as if that was its natural place. Where they were headed Martha had no idea, but she was struck by the sudden realisation that if this really was the Doctor’s Rose, then she shouldn’t just let her go without a word. She owed him as much, at least—didn't she?</p><p>“Rose,” she called out to her, uncertain even as she spoke.</p><p>Rose looked over her shoulder at her. “Yeah?”</p><p>From where it was shoved in her pocket, Martha’s mobile rang. She knew it was in all likelihood the Doctor, enquiring about where she was, and she ignored it, allowing the blithe tone to play on.</p><p>Rose’s brows furrowed in confusion when she didn’t elaborate. Martha knew how dull she must look, but she couldn’t think of what to say. The other girl hadn't mentioned the Doctor <em>once</em>, hadn't even seemed to register the possibility that he was somehow related to the man Martha was travelling with. And the man she herself was with hadn't so much as glanced at Martha, eyes only for Rose. Now that he had returned Rose was much the same, her previous ire all but forgotten. Could she really bring herself to disrupt the peace they had come to for the sake of a man who was only a few streets away, who could easily come to see her at any time? And moreover, when exactly had it become her job to chase down every Rose she met, to look for her in every council estate she passed through?</p><p>“Nothing,” she finally decided. “Sorry, just thought I saw something.”</p><p>Rose smiled, lined eyes crinkling at the edges. “Get some sleep, Doctor Jones,” she advised, giving her a cheeky wave. “Med school’s got to be tough, if you’re seeing things already!”</p><p>And then, hand-in-hand with the man in leather, she headed off across the yard and out into the street, melting into the rest of the crowd. Martha watched their silhouettes blur together until they were out of sight.</p><p>Swallowing, she withdrew her mobile, redialling the TARDIS' phone.</p><p>The Doctor picked up after only two rings, which was unusually quick for him. “<em>Martha,</em>” came his voice from the other end. “<em>Blimey, why didn’t you tell me it was 2006? I was looking for parts, only to realise they wouldn’t come in until two years later! Do you know how confusing that is?</em> <em>If you had only called, I</em>—"</p><p>“Doctor,” she interrupted. “Where are you?”</p><p>“<em>Back with the TARDIS, of course. I’m calling you on the TARDIS phone,</em>” he said, sounding a bit unimpressed by her deductive reasoning. “<em>Why, where did you think I would be?"</em></p><p>Martha shook her head, knowing he couldn’t see her, but unable to otherwise articulate properly. “I dunno what I was thinking,” she said. “I—I just…I saw…”</p><p>The Doctor fell silent. “<em>Did something happen?</em>” he ventured, when she didn’t explain herself further.</p><p>“No.” Martha chewed on her lower lip. “I just thought I saw something, sorry. I’ll come back and meet you up, yeah?”</p><p>“<em>Sure, just hurry it up,” </em>said the Doctor. Then, he shuddered. “<em>Eurgh. I just had the strangest case of déjà vu. Always comes at the most random times, don't you think?”</em></p><p>Rising to her feet, Martha afforded the neighbourhood only a quick glance as she walked toward the alley where she knew the blue police box awaited her. There was nothing more for her here but ghosts. It was time to go back to the TARDIS—back to the Doctor.</p><p>“Yeah,” she answered him at last, mobile clutched to her cheek. “Me too.”</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>